


Arrogant Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had always had Sam, and that had been all he needed. Adam had a family, and that was he'd ever wanted. They were happy, or at least content. Then one night Sam's mistakes catch up with him, and that life is shattered. Dean and Adam are left to pick up the pieces. Castiel has been in and out of a help center for years. He's given up on ever being happy, on ever being comfortable with someone touching him. Samandriel just wants to fatten Adam up with his super amazing chicken casserole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy fic, don't yell at me. I'll be posting a chapter once a week. I would like to thank Jaimee, who took the liberty of typing penis whilst I wasn't looking, Jennie, who fixes my mistakes and makes life easier, and my cousin for telling me that no one will read something that will make them smile, they want pain and agony. Sage advice. Oh, yeah, and I don't own supernatural.

**Nine Months Before**

            “Where you going, Sammy?” Dean leaned back in the plush red recliner.

            “Mind your own business, Dean.” Sam popped his head into the living room of their small three-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t even a living room, really. It was more like a living room/kitchen/bedroom hybrid. Dean blinked.

            “Chill, man, I was just asking.” He took a swig from the beer in his hand, and held back a snicker as Adam slid into the room, white socks making him almost fall on his face.

            “Sammy’s got a  _date_. With  _Ruby Hollander,_ ” He crowed, skidding to a stop in front of Sam by the front door. Sam shot Adam a glare and tried to shove past him. Dean raised an eyebrow.

            “And who’s Ruby Hollander? Is she hot?” Sam rolled his eyes, and reached around Adam to grab a jacket.

            “Ruby Hollander is the campus bad girl!” Adam laughed, smiling at them. “She’s  _really_ hot.”

            “I hate you,” Sam muttered, finally pushing Adam to the side and storming out the door, letting in a frigid breeze. The door closed with a slam. Dean and Adam stared at each other blankly.

            “Touchy, touchy,” Dean murmured, gesturing Adam over to the stained brown couch across from him. “Tell me more about this Ruby chick.”

            Adam frowned, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Well, I don’t know much. I mean, she’s a junior like Sam, and a chemistry major. All I know is what I’ve heard.”

            “And what have you heard?”

            “That she’s pretty much bad news. That she’s a drug addict, runs with Lucifer’s’ crew. Oh, and she’s known for screwing guys over.”

            “Doesn’t sound like Sam’s type.” Dean wrinkled his brow, thinking it over.

            “Yeah, but I don’t know. After Jess, maybe he’s just looking for, like, an escape?” Dean smiled and ruffled Adam’s hair.

            “That earns you McDonald’s chicken nuggets.” Adam laughed.

            “What a prize.”

**Six Months Before**

            Dean watched from the smudged apartment window as Sam jumped into a Ruby’s silver Nissan, and grimaced as they sped away.

            “I don’t like that chick. She’s ruining Sam, leading him down a bad path.” Adam glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the retreating car, taking a sip of orange juice.

            “Yeah, I think we should exterminate her.” He giggled and jumped away as Dean’s hand swung back to smack him.

            “You are  _never_ watching Doctor Who again. It’s making you even more annoying than usual.” Dean held back his sigh until Adam had danced out of the room. Once the sound of Adam’s giggling had faded, Dean let his head drop into his hands and his brow furrowed. This was the seventh day in a row Sam had ditched, and Dean had a feeling he wouldn’t be back until some ungodly hour again. He joked about it to Adam, but they both knew something wasn’t right.

            After the first date with Ruby, Sam had come back happy, and both Dean and Adam had been glad. Ruby seemed to make Sam content, and that was the best he’d been since Jess had died. Then after the first month, things started to change. Sam started coming back later than usual, and leaving earlier with Ruby or one of his new friends. He was snappier, quick to anger, and never had the time for them anymore. It used to be that he’d geek out with Adam and go to a book club every Thursday. He’d watch crappy television with Dean, and was always home before midnight. Recently, it hadn’t even been just Ruby picking him up; Lucifer had started popping up now and again.

            Dean didn’t go to college with Adam and Sam, but even he knew about Lucifer and his little group. Lucifer, the big time drug dealer, and protected by his daddy’s money and position. In control of almost everyone on campus, and so terrifying that no one dared threaten him. There were rumors of people that had, but never were they heard from again.

            Dean rubbed at his face tiredly, glancing at the clock. It was already one AM, and he doubted Sam would be back before six. Adam had gone to bed at eleven, stating that he had took look especially hot because they were having a guest speaker, some author he was in love with.

            Dean hadn’t exactly been surprised when Adam had come out to them. When Adam had first moved in, he had been a wreck with no attachments to anyone, having just lost his mother and his father the year before. He had only met Sam and Dean once before and now they were the last living relatives he had. Adam spent the first few months holed up in his room, blasting heavy punk music, and only coming out for food and school. His grades had steadily dropped and his attitude was completely shit, until Dean had finally grown sick of it and pulled him out to have a talk.

             _“Okay, kid. Talk.” Dean gestured at the seat beside him on the couch. Adam glared half-heartedly, but eventually sat when Dean raised an eyebrow._

_“Talk about what exactly?” Adam’s scrawny arms curled around himself, and with him being in that awkward stage, almost reached all the way around._

_“Whatever you need to.”_

_“There’s nothing –don’t look at me like that! You know what? Fine! I hate it here! Mom’s dead, gone, never coming back, and everyone just expects me to be happy at the house of the dad that ditched me and her! Well fuck that! You and Sam are just fine without parents because you never really had them. I’ve always had my mom, and I…I miss her! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, just adjust? I can’t! You don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here.” Adam exhaled loudly and Dean leaned forward._

_“Adam...First of all, don’t cuss, you’re thirteen. Secondly, Sam and I were not fine, not for a long time. After mom’s death, it was shit for a year, and after Dad died in his sleep, Sam didn’t talk to me for about three months, and I probably drank enough to break a breathalyzer. And you know what? We got through it. It took a while, and it still gets rough sometimes, but we get by. But believe me, we want you here.” Dean awkwardly threw an arm over Adam’s shoulder, pulling him in for a quick side-hug thing._

_“Uh, sure.” Adam was muffled by Dean’s bicep. “That’s very clear.”_

_It wasn’t as if Dean and Sam hadn’t tried to welcome Adam, but they hadn’t tried too hard. Dean glanced down at Adam and shrugged. “Like I said, we’ll make it work. Now, stop wallowing and do your part.”_

_Adam stared questioningly and Dean smirked, throwing a shirt that had been laid on the back of the couch into his face. “Laundry.”_

           It had taken a few months, and it was strange the next couple of years, but Adam had eventually become just as important to him as Sam. They were all the others had, and they couldn’t risk losing each other. So when Sam started to notice the lack of interest in girls that Adam had, he, being a giant dork, started saying how okay it was to be gay. Adam, used to Sam’s strange tactics, simply shrugged and pointed out that the guy walking by them had a nice ass. Dean had choked on his Coke, and then slapped Adam on the back.

            Dean took a long drink from the beer in his hand, taking another glance out the window. He figured he’d stay up until Sam got home, then hold an intervention that was long overdue. At least, that was what he was going to do, but then Sam showed up earlier than expected.

            As soon as the car pulled up, Dean recognized it as Lucifer’s.  He shot out of his seat and was standing by the door when Sam threw it open and stormed in. He tried shoving past Dean, but Dean yanked him back by his shoulder.

            “Not now, Dean. I really don’t need you all condescending at this time.”

            Dean held back what he was going to say originally, because Sam’s eyes were red and puffy from crying and he could see that the necklace Ruby had given him was no longer there.

            “Did you…Did you break up with her?” He tried to keep the joy out of his voice. Sam glared.

            “No, no, she broke up with me.”

            “What, why?” It wasn’t like Dean wasn’t pleased that they weren’t together anymore, but Ruby breaking up with Sam?

            “Her ex came back, Alistair or something…Listen, I really don’t want to have this conversation now, I’m gonna go to bed.” Sam started to pull away from Dean’s grip, but Dean just clenched harder.

            “So you got a ride with  _Lucifer_? Lucifer?  _Really_?”

            “He’s a nice guy. He let me stay at his house for a while, then gave me a ride home. Relax, Dean.”

            Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “A nice guy? Are we talking about the same person here?”

            “I just want to sleep right now, so please just drop it, at least until morning.”

            “Well, Sammy, it’s three AM, you’re not gonna get much more morning than that.”

            “Dean.” Sam gave him a warning glance and yanked away. “I’m going to bed.”

            “You know we’re gonna have to talk about this eventually.”  

            The only response Dean received was the slamming of Sam’s bedroom door.

**One Month Before**

            Adam slid into Dean’s room, losing his balance dangerously close to the dresser edge.

            “Whoa!” He yelped as he swerved to land on the bed instead. Dean chuckled from the where he was yanking his boots on.

            “I swear to God, I’m never buying you socks again. All you do is slide around and make me worry about medical bills.”

            Adam grinned, but then turned slightly more serious. “Is Sam a part of Lucifer’s crowd now, or am I just imagining things?”

            Dean paused, his hands stilling on the laces. “Adam.”

            Adam grimaced. “Dean.”

            “Adam, Sam’s…he’s in a rough place, and I don’t like it just as much as you, but Lucifer…I guess he’s helping Sam through the Ruby crap.” Dean stood up and ruffled Adam’s hair. “If good ole Luci tries anything with him though, I’ll set him straight, kay?”

            Adam rolled his eyes and fixed his hair. “Well, I think he’s in a little too deep considering I just saw him kissing Lucifer.”

            Dean froze in place, halfway through the door. “Did you say  _kissing_?”

            Adam nodded, wringing his hands worryingly. “It was kind of gross, like they were trying to eat each other’s faces.”

            Dean rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “Adam, tonight could you go to a friend’s house?”

            “How about no? I love Sam just as much as you do, and I can help.”

            “Adam.” Dean growled warningly.

            “Don’t go all ‘I’m older, and I know best.’ on me. I’m going to be there.”

            Before Dean could say another word, Adam slid out of the room and down the hall, his loud cackles fading.           

            “Damn socks.”

            Sam didn’t get back until five AM the next morning. Adam had crashed on the couch and Dean was in a lucid state, dropping in and out of awareness. The door opening and closing made them both sit up like a bullet. Adam rubbed at his eyes as he stood up and made his way over to where Sam was hanging up his jacket.

            “Sam, Jesus, it’s been hours. What were you doing, watching a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon?” Adam had a knack for lightening situations, but Sam apparently wasn’t in the mood.

            “God, is this like a thing now? You guys just gonna wait up every night and make an intervention?”

            Dean stepped up beside Adam. “Only if there needs to be one. Dating Lucifer? Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

            Sam flinched. “I’ve told you before; Lucifer’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be.”

            Dean took a moment to take in Sam’s appearance. Dean knew he’d been falling into the drug scene, but in the reflection of the blue light on the TV from where Adam had been streaming _Doctor Who_ it was clearer than ever. His skin was drawn tight across his face, dark circles surrounded his eyes and they were red and puffy. He was in serious need of a haircut and Dean could almost smell the drugs on him.

            “Yeah, except that I can look at you right now and see what you did at his place. What was it, Sammy? Marijuana, or something stronger?” Dean felt his voice get louder at the end, but didn’t try to soften it. Adam drew in on himself a bit.

            “You don’t know anything, Dean,” Sam growled, pointing at him.

            “What about me then, Sam? Don’t I know something? Like how I saw you with Lucifer, Azazel, Lillith, Ruby, and  _Alistair_ , you know, the guy Ruby left you for? Like how you were helping them beat up that scrawny little guy, Casteel, or something?” Adam took a step forward, closing the personal space between him and Sam. “Did you know that Alistair raped two kids last year, a freshman girl, and some guy from off campus? What about Azazel and all that he’s been charged with? The blood on his hands? Did you know about how it was Lucifer’s little brother you were beating up? Or how Lucifer has been arrested over thirty times, two of which for attempted murder, and one for full on murder?”

            “It wasn’t him, they had no evidence,” Sam snapped. Adam froze and gave him an incredulous look.         

            “So you did know.” Adam was staring at Sam as if he didn’t know him anymore. “You fucking son of a bitch. Azazel and Lucifer were suspects for Jess’ death. We all know they did it. Did you forget that bit?”

            When Sam had first brought Jess home, Dean had loved her, but Adam took to her like a fish to water. They’d hang out all the time and were almost as close as Sam and Jess.  Dean figured out that Adam saw Jess as a mother figure, and Jess treated Adam as if he was the sweetest thing on earth. Sam had proposed to her eight months in, and Adam was drooling over the idea of her moving in. Then Jess was at her apartment alone one night, Sam having to study for a test, and someone broke in. They tied her to a chair and set the room ablaze. At least, that’s what they could figure out from the scorched room. Sam lost the love of his life, Dean lost a sister, but Adam lost a mother for the second time over.

            Sam’s eyes widened, but then his face melted into a snarl. “Shut up, they didn’t do it. Lucifer had nothing to do with it.”

            Dean grimaced. “Sam, what the hell? No, I mean it, what the hell? Ruby was okay, I admit. Sure, she made you late for dinner and was bad news, but she wasn’t a threat. Lucifer and his friends though? Sam, you’re walking in a cave with loose stalactites. If you get in too far, which you might already have, you could get in bad shape. I mean real bad shape. I’ve seen some of the scars on people that have crossed them, and they ain’t pretty.”

            Sam shook his head. “Dean, I get that you’re worried, but I’m  _fine_. Really. Lucifer gets bagged for a lot of crap that he doesn’t do. His friends are downright dicks, sure, but he gets blamed for stuff that they do. He’s actually a decent guy. I was surprised at first too, but Dean, I’m good. Good.”

            Dean took a step back at the same time as Adam let out a scream and ran into his room, slamming the door. Sam glanced apathetically at the closed door, and shrugged.

            “Just, watch yourself, and be careful. I don’t trust them.”

            Sam smiled as he strolled into his room. “I’m fine, Dean.”

**Night After**

Dean flicked through another soap opera, finally landing on a semi-decent show, something about war. Adam was curled up in the recliner, scribbling in his notebook. Sam was out with Lucifer again, but Dean wasn’t that worried. Sam had been coming home earlier, the smell of drugs had ceased, and Dean was counting down the days until Lucifer and him broke up. He was just getting involved in the program, when there was a knock at the door.

            Dean threw the remote off his chest and sat up from his laying down position on the couch. “I got it.”

            He strolled over to the door and threw it open. “Crowley, fancy seeing you.”

            “That’s Sheriff Crowley to you, Squirrel.” Crowley gave a sad smile. “Where’s the chipmunk?”

            Dean frowned, but answered. “Living room…what’s going on, Crowley? You didn’t just stop for a friendly chat.”

            Crowley gestured behind them. “Perhaps somewhere that little chipmunks can’t listen in.”

            Dean nodded and stepped outside the door, closing it softly behind him. He turned to face Crowley, and now he could see the darkness in the sheriff’s eyes.

            “Dean, I am…I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but Sam Winchester’s body has been found beside the river. Dean, Sam has passed away.”


	2. Of Bobby, Blood, and Blonde Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are again! Thank you to the people who commented, left kudos, or other, it means a lot! This chapter has self-harm, so trigger warning. Enjoy! 
> 
> Edit: Hey everyone, sorry I didn't update last week like I said I would, but some...issues came up. Family troubles, personal issues, etc. I'm still trying to get my mind sorted, but I have half of the next chapter written, and will either have it up next Wednesday or Friday, I swear.

“You boys coming over for dinner Friday?” Bobby took a quick swig from his beer bottle, and Dean shrugged.

            “If Adam wants.” He glanced over at said boy, but Adam was looking pointedly at the door. Dean grimaced. “Nah, I think we’ll just stay home, order in some pizza.”       

            Bobby sat his beer down. “Dean, Adam; I know you boys are going through something rough, and so am I, but you’ve got friends. Dammit, you have family. Jodie would feel a lot better if you came, and God knows Crowley could deal with some company.”

            Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby cut him off. “You don’t have to come, but just know…just know you’re not alone in this.”

            Adam stood up slowly, still nearly knocking the kitchen table over. He was just yanking his jacket on and leaving the apartment when he turned back around. Dean made an “o” with his hand and Adam nodded, twisting and stepping out the door. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

            “The hell was that?”

            “It means nine. Be back by nine.” Dean ruffled his cropped hair. “He doesn’t like talking.”

            Since Crowley had relayed the news of Sam’s death two months before, Adam had not spoken a word. Dean could understand his unwillingness; he just wished that he could help. However, Dean wasn’t in any better of a situation, he thought wryly, glancing at the bathroom door. They were both dealing with the pain in their own ways; Dean’s was just a bit more destructive.

            “Dean.” Bobby slipped his hat off and ran a calloused, wrinkled hand through his thinning hair. “Dean, you boys need help. I know Ellen would be happy to take you both in until you get back on your feet.” 

            Dean shook his head decisively. “I don’t think so. Adam doesn’t need any more sudden adjustments, and I can take care of the two of us just fine. I’ve done it for years, and I don’t need any help.”

            “Now I wasn’t saying-“

            “Bobby. No.”

            Bobby nodded slowly and stood up, the old wooden chair creaking loud enough to wake the dead. “Well, son, you know the number if you do need anything. And consider that dinner Friday.”

            “Will do.” Dean walked Bobby to the door and held it open while Bobby pulled on his winter coat. “Tell Jodie I said hey.”

            Bobby gave a wave of acknowledgement, then he was out the door and gone. Dean exhaled loudly, sagging back against the blue wall. He rubbed softly at the itching cuts in his arm that were concealed by a dark green button up.

             _“It’ll look good! I swear.” Sam pouted at Dean, holding up the hideous shirt. “Come on, Dean.”_

_“No, Sam. It looks like shit.”_

_“Aw, but Dean, it would bring out your eyes!” Adam fluttered his eyelashes at Dean, smiling sweetly._

_“So would the blood from you broken nose.” Dean growled, yanking the shirt from Sam and rolling his eyes._

_“Woo!” Sam and Adam cheered loudly, garnering the stares from a few other shoppers._

            Dean made his way back into the tiny kitchen, throwing the dirty dishes from the table into the sink. The clock on the microwave said it was only eight fifteen, and Adam wouldn’t be back for another forty five minutes. Enough time.

            The white washed walls of the bathroom were familiar, safe. A false-bottom in the third drawer underneath the cotton balls and peroxide revealed a dirty, rusted razor, the edges still tinted with blood from the night before. As Dean slid it against his now bare arms, slow, deep, he shuddered softly. The wounds from the last night hadn’t quite yet healed, so he carefully avoided going over them. Little red lines puckered up from his wrist to the top of his bicep both arms. There was no foreseeable pattern, just cuts going in every direction. Little red drops of blood poked up from the fresh indents, spreading out, dripping, and connecting like little magnets. Dean blinked and went deeper.

            The cutting had not started when Sam had died. No, it went back farther than that. It had originally started in his sophomore year, when his dad had found that the more he drank, the more he forgot. It was too much pressure, too much stress, too much at one time for Dean. Cutting wasn’t his original escape. No, that had been working on the impala; at least until the car was in such good condition it would only hurt her to do any more. With nothing to do distract him, his mind had wandered. Wandered to places he did not know had purchase in his head. It was his fault dad was like this, it was his fault Sam couldn’t go to the private school he deserved, his fault for everything.

Punishment, discipline. Those were the principles he had been raised on. There was no one to punish him, no one but himself. So when his eyes had landed on the pencil sharpener on his dresser, the razor glinting with light, it had been easy to unscrew it out. That first little slice was made, and it felt right. It felt better than anything he’d experienced before. There was finally something orderly in his life. There was something he could rely on.

_“Dean. Oh my God, Dean, did you do this to yourself?” Sam gasped, losing his balance and leaning against the doorframe. Dean dropped the razor, but just stared blankly at the red rivulets running down his arms. He felt nothing but the sting from the open cuts._

_“Dean.” Sam fell to his knees beside him and enwrapped Dean in a ginormous hug. Without even noticing, they were both crying into each other’s shoulders. “You need to stop. Promise me you’ll stop.”_

When Adam had moved in, Dean  _had_  stopped. No, not right away of course, that would have been too hard. Taking care of his two brothers sapped time and energy, but most of all it distracted him. He had no longer needed that slow burn, that dripping red.

Sam’s death was a trigger like no other. He should have looked out for Sam better. He should have kept him safe. It was too little, too late, though. No more distractions, Adam could take care of himself. And that left Dean with poisonous thoughts and idle hands. It had been like coming home when he picked up that shiny new razor and slit open his veins. Old scars, long healed, were covered with fresh ones, deeper ones.

Dean knew he was playing a dangerous game. He could end up killing himself and leaving Adam even more split apart. He could be caught and get sent away to some help center, a psychiatric ward. Those were just nagging thoughts though. This cutting was all he asked, just a small relief from the hell of his life. That at least would not be taken from him.

_“Have you, uh, you know, since we…” Sam was stumbling over his words, but Dean just ruffled his hair fondly._

_“Not even once. I’ve thought about it, sure, but I haven’t actually…ah, done the deed.” Sam looked relieved._

_“Oh, good. You had me worried.” Dean surreptitiously pulled his sleeve down when Sam glanced away._

He didn’t let the tears pooling in his eyes flow over. That would hurt too much.

“Sir?” The cute blonde cashier was giving him an unsure smile. Adam blinked and finally noticed that it was his turn. He placed the box of cheerios and gallon of milk on the conveyor, stepping forward.

“How has your night been?” The cashier, Samandriel said his nametag (who the hell names a kid  _Samandriel_? Adam wondered), asked, his smile now bright and welcoming. Adam frowned and shook his head. The smile dropped a little. “Not much of a talker, then?”

Adam cocked an eyebrow and grinned charmingly. He saluted Samandriel with his credit card, and then slid it into the little machine. He glanced away from the blue-eyed boy, typing in his PIN number. He could feel the questioning stare from Samandriel, but brushed it off. What could he do-explain? That would require speaking.

Adam gave a slight nod as he scooped of the items he’d purchased, hoping to get out before the inquiries began. He felt the stare of the hot blonde all the way out the doors of the mini-mart.

In the past, Adam would have jumped on that worker and climbed him like a tree. In the past, there were many things he would have done, like talked. He would have slid around on socks, marathoned a different TV show every week, experimented in the kitchen when Dean wasn’t home, or hung out with his friends on the weekend. Now all that just sounded so trivial. Everything was just so pointless.

Adam glanced at his phone quickly, because if there was one thing that hadn’t changed about him, it was his knack for forgetting watches. It was not even eight thirty, but it wasn’t like he had anything to do. He glanced back longingly at the mini-mart. That cashier really had been about the hottest thing since Michael Novak had graced the halls of his college.

With nothing to do, Adam sighed dejectedly and began to head home. His shopping bag slapped his right thigh and made loud crinkling noises. Adam cringed and held it out a bit more.

            “Wait! Sir! You forgot something!” Adam jerked back around and found himself nose to nose with the cashier. “You forgot your receipt.”

        Samandriel shoved the tiny scrap of paper into Adams hands, smiling brilliantly. Adam was just a bit confused, but he smiled cautiously back. Then he tilted his head to the left, hoping to convey confusion and not just a crick in his neck. Samandriel seemed to get the memo though.

            “Well, you see, it has really important information on it. Like, what you bought, and what kind of card you use, and say, like…” Adam was already unfolding the receipt, and just as he had expected, scrawled on the back was Samandriel’s phone number.

            Adam seriously did not need this right now. His life was hectic enough, he did not need some hot, baby-faced mini-mart worker to come running after him to give him his phone number, probably expecting to go on a date and, you know, have a  _conversation_.

That took everything back to the main issue. It wasn’t that Adam didn’t  _want_ to talk, he just  _couldn’t_. The words he used to write and speak so easily escaped him. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, they called it. Bullshit, Adam called it. Speaking had been his thing, his hobby. He had loved blathering on about nothing, and now he couldn’t even ask out the cutie handed to him on a silver platter.

‘Fuck Sam.’ Adam thought harshly for a moment, before recoiling and instantly regretting the words. That wasn’t right, Sam would have felt like a monster of he knew he was the reason Adam was mute. Sam would have righted everything. God, he really missed Sam. Sam and his big, goofy face and oversized body. His insane intelligence and natural sincerity. How could anyone hurt such a man?

_“I know you’re going through a lot right now, Adam, and I just want you to know-“_

_“Oh, please. Save it. I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need your goddamn sympathy.” Adam snapped at Sam, jerking away._

_“I never said you were, but I know what it feels like to lose a parent, and it’s not easy.” Sam didn’t pry anymore, but before he left Adam’s darkened room, he uttered, “Adam, hey, it’ll get better.”_

“Uh, was that like, too much, or are you straight, or-“ Samandriel was babbling, and Adam snapped back. He looked around furtively. There was no way to get his point across. Finally, he just reached forward and tapped Samandriel’s mouth, which made him shut up instantly and stare quizzically at Adam. Adam blushed and pointed to his own lips, trying to mouth ‘mute’.

“Oh!” Samandriel turned cherry red. “Oh, wow, um, sorry, I mean I had no idea, I just thought you were quiet. That’s cool with me by the way, we can just text then.” He paused, turning even redder. “ImeanthatisifyouwanttoIdidn’tmeantojustassume-“

Adam nodded slowly and pulled his old beaten phone out of his back pocket. Turning it so Samandriel could see, he entered in Samandriel’s number. It was as if the blonde had a smile switch, and Adam had turned it full power.

“Andy, I go by Andy. My last name is Milton.” He adjusted the collar of his bright red and white striped uniform. Adam grinned and nodded, just relieved he didn’t go by Sam. “And I still don’t even know your first name.”

Adam suddenly felt like screaming. It wasn’t even in his capacity anymore to say his own goddamn name. Instead, though, he just opened a new text and typed ‘Adam Winchester-Milligan.”

“Adam…Cool.” Samandriel blushed and swiftly moved in closer, dropping a kiss on Adam’s cheek. “I have to get back inside, I’m going to be in so much trouble, text me in like an hour?”

Adam was still dazed but managed to nod slightly. It was really more of a twitch, but Samandriel seemed to recognize it for what it meant. With a wave and a mad dash, he was gone.

Adam fell back on his heels. What the hell had just happened? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he apparently had a new love interest. He was not sure how he felt about that, but it wasn’t exactly something bad that was twisting his gut. With a quick glance at his phone, Adam realized he was going to have to sprint home to get back before curfew.

Adam knew a ton of people who would hate curfew, especially one as early as nine. He would have too at one point. Now he simply saw it as the smartest decision. Sam had… Well, it was just safer to be home before it got too dark.

He was keeled over, clutching the near warm milk to his chest by the time he got back to the apartment complex on Gull Road. Adam was not built for running. His asthma could speak for him. The stairs up to the fifth floor loomed above him, almost taunting. It occurred to him for the seventh time that month that the staff should really repair the elevator.  Sighing dejectedly, Adam began the trek up the stairs, still gasping from his sprint.

With ten minutes to spare until curfew, Adam flung open the door to his and Dean’s abode. He opened his mouth to yell out a hello, then paused and closed it silently. He twisted the knob so the door closed without a sound. Glancing around the empty hall, leading to an empty room, Adam wondered where Dean was. The sound of running water that reached his ears when he entered the living room answered that. Something was wrong though. The water was coming from the bathroom sink, not the shower, and it wasn’t stopping. Dean had very strict rules about water usage to keep the bills down. Never leave water running was at the top.

Adam mouthed a few choice words, stumbling his way through the cluttered room towards the bathroom. When he reached the door, he knocked quickly. There was no response. With a deep breath and a hope to see nothing too personal about his half-brother, Adam creaked the door open.

A quick glance told him that the sink was overflowing, there was a bloody cloth and razor on the counter, and worst of all, Dean was collapsed on the floor, blood streaming out from somewhere on his body. All Adam could think was, ‘God, no, not him too, please not him too.’

 


	3. Authors Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry guys.

I know I said I would have the next chapter up months ago and that I'd never give up on this fic, but something has changed. I've went through a lot of crap these past few months, and this fic has become a trigger. I can't write it without wanting to find my old box cutter. I haven't cut in months, and I don't want to start again, so I'm giving this fic up. I'm sorry, really, I wanted to see where it would go too, but it's just too much. If anyone wants, feel free to pick up where I left off. I love you all, please don't be mad.


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